


Immortality Sucks

by GothMarble



Category: Boyfriend to Death (Visual Novels)
Genre: Alex is a fucked up immortal guy that likes to seek out danger, Cannibalism, Immortality, M/M, Torture, all in all don't read this if the content would be triggering or upsetting, also 2.0 given the circumstances of things there is gonna be some talk of suicide, also demon shenanigans later on, basically a lot of torture and death and revival and Alex slowly cracking, dubcon, ends up tangling with Strade by chance and things spiral out of control, this is gonna divert a Lot from the original canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-11
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:00:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23110603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GothMarble/pseuds/GothMarble
Summary: Alex is a nobody. No close friends, a young college student living by himself in an old house in a nowhere town. He's also immortal and loves spending his free time seeking out dangers that often lead to his death. He has a decent routine down, making sure he isn't caught after he revives and goes about his business as if everything is normal. Everything changes when he gets a text from an unknown number and goes down a rabbit hole of a far different brand of danger and consequences that come with being too reckless.
Relationships: Strade (BTD/TNR)/Original Character(s)
Comments: 20
Kudos: 52





	1. Game: Start

**Author's Note:**

> I added as many tags as I could think of that's needed. Like I mention in them, please do not read this fic if the content will be triggering or upsetting. This is just a for funsies fic because why not. For those of you that will enjoy it, thank you for reading. ♥
> 
> Edit: If you'd like to rp/interact directly with Alex, he has a tumblr now! >> https://ask-immortal-alex.tumblr.com

Immortality isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

Alex stares up at the sky through half-lidded eyes, silver light from a full moon reflecting off the crimson of his irises. It would have been a relaxing sight, if he wasn’t lying in a ditch in the middle of nowhere with dried blood-- _his_ blood--sticking uncomfortably to his skin. He sighs softly after a long moment and slowly looks around. He’s alone.

“That has got to be one of _the_ most uneventful deaths I’ve had yet,” he grumbles, brushing dark hair out of his face as he sits up. His other hand goes to his ripped shirt, where a knife had previously cut through and sunk deep into his abdomen. Now, there’s no sign of the wound except for the blood it left behind. Alex takes his time making sure his motor functions have returned before he pushes himself to his feet and starts walking back towards town, taking all the back roads he’s long since grown familiar with.

The next day passes uneventfully. It always does. Alex spends most of it sleeping, exhausted from the stress his body underwent from dying and bringing itself back. It’s nearly sunset when he finally drags himself out of bed and to the kitchen, digging through the pantry for a few minutes before settling on cereal--until he gets to the fridge and sees he forgot to buy milk.

“ _Great_...”

His attention is drawn away from looking for his wallet when he hears his phone go off. An eyebrow raises as he opens the texting app, seeing the message is from an unknown number.

>> **You like? ;)**

There’s a video attached.

Alex’s expression shifts from uncertain boredom to confusion as he hits Play. The room in the recording is dark, and he has to turn up the volume to make out the sound of crying. After a few moments of shuffling around, the camera focuses on the face of a woman he doesn’t recognize. She’s sporting several bruises as tears stream down her face.

_”Say hello, liebling~”_ an unfamiliar voice chimes.

_”P-Please...don’t--”_ her words give way to a sharp cry and sobbing, a large hunting knife cutting a thin line across her cheek.

The video abruptly ends.

“What the fuck…?” Alex’s brows furrow. His frown deepens; another message came through while he was watching the odd content.

>> **What should I do next?**

Alex chews his bottom lip for a moment before he decides to respond.

> **nice effects. you making a horror movie or something?**

>> **Oh no. This is very real. ;)**

> **right. and i’m count dracula.**

>> **You don’t believe me?**

> **no? why would i? you’d have to be stupid to go around sending snuff content. how’d you get my number anyway?**

There’s no reply for several minutes, then another video attachment comes into the window. Against his better judgement, Alex hits play--and quickly regrets it. His eyes widen as he watches a gloved hand, wielding the same hunting knife, cut deep into the meat of the woman’s shoulder and slice down across her chest at a diagonal angle. The woman’s screams ring through his ears well after the abrupt ending.

>> **I chose a random number! And my phone can’t be tracked. Believe me now? :)**

Alex knows if he was anyone else, he’d be shaking, frightened at the idea of being contacted by a bonafide psycho like whoever this guy is. Instead, the pounding of his own pulse in his ears is because the sick part of him can’t help but be curious about the idea of being on the receiving end of that knife. He feels genuinely awful for the woman’s predicament, especially knowing she can’t come back like he can, and the feeling that settles in his gut leaves him conflicted. He’s spent the past few years seeking out danger of all flavors, but this is the first time it all but fell right into his lap.

> **say i do believe you. what were you hoping to get out of sending this sort of shit?**

>> **I just wanted to see how you’d react. :)**

Alex rolls his eyes, then narrows them at the next message.

>> **You seem considerably less disturbed than I expected. Most people would be freaking out by now don’t you think?**

He snorts.

> **i’m not most people. you, on the other hand, are a freak. ;P**

>> **Says the person not running to call the police. :)**

He shouldn’t. He _really shouldn’t_.

> **call me morbidly curious. you picked this number because you’re in the area, didn’t you?**

>> **You’re a clever one~ Why do you ask?**

Alex has lost count of how many times he’s died, both from his own hands and others’, all for the sake of seeing what he could come back from, but never at the hands of someone like... _this_.

> **i’m not an idiot. you have ulterior motives for sending those videos. that’s not the sort of thing you can just let float around and risk being reported or shared to the wrong people. you’re looking for your next victim.**

>> **Very good, liebling~ I’ve played this game before. I always win. ;)**

Alex’s free hand grips the counter so hard his knuckles have turned white as he types out his response.

> **game on, fucker.**

>> **Mmm~ You’re so spirited~ This will be fun. Now. What do I call you, liebling?**

> **you’re not getting my name that easily.**

>> **It was worth a shot ha ha. At least give me something about you to go off of~ Just a hint. :)**

He purses his lips and pulls his eyes away from his phone to look around the room, wracking his brain for ideas. He knows better than to give anything _too_ specific.

> **i’ll narrow your search down a little.** He texts at last. **i’m a guy. hope that doesn’t turn off your murder boner.**

>> **Not at all, liebling~ Now. I have...work to attend to. Stay in touch~ ;)**

Alex stares at the text for a long moment before he groans and runs his hand down his face. “What the fuck have I gotten myself into…”


	2. College Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex gets some snacks, does the college stuff, and chats again with Mr. No Name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you'd like to rp/interact directly with Alex, he has a tumblr now! >> https://ask-immortal-alex.tumblr.com

Alex is thankful the convenience store is just down the street. He’s still tired from the previous night, and the idea of walking several miles to town and back is far from appealing. Despite the short distance, he can’t help the shiver of paranoia creeping its way up his spine and making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

“Come on, it’s not like he was standing outside waiting for you…” he grumbles, pulling his hood up and stuffing his hands into the front pocket of his hoodie. “If he knew where I lived, it wouldn’t be a game.” His lips turn into a frown as the last word passes through them. The man had called it a ‘game’, said that he’d won before. Alex wonders just how many times his new...what should he even _call_ someone in this situation?

_Psycho is cliché. Not like I can mention_ that _as a cover._ His thoughts go to his classmate Casey. He’s a nice guy, and Alex has to admit his continuous attempts to try and befriend him are cute, but Alex found he lost interest in such connections a long time ago, when he realized he would outlive every single person he ever meets. Either way, he doesn’t want Casey to get wrapped up in any of this. It’s bad enough he got roped into a mandatory group project with him. ...That they still need to work on. _Great._

The convenience store is quiet as always. Living in the middle of a neighborhood mostly occupied by people old enough to be Alex’s grandparents has that effect. He can’t complain. He quickly grabs the milk before he finds himself drawn to the irresistible call of his first and only love, waiting in the candy aisle: Almond Joy. He decides to treat himself to a king size pack, then pauses, eyeing the nearby Pop Tarts. Okay. So he has two loves. A box of brown cinnamon sugar Pop Tarts joins his other purchases on the front counter.

Alex notes the way the cashier looks like this is the most excitement they’ve had in a month, and he manages a small smirk. “Slow night?”

“Always,” they return with a soft chuckle. “You?”

“Eh. I’m just getting up and around. Gotta love night classes.”

“Yeah? Well, good luck. That’s a surefire way to get a ticket out of this hole in the wall.”

Alex hums in feigned agreement, exchanging cash and change before taking his items in a bag. “Thanks. See you around.” He waves nonchalantly as he makes his way out. Far be it from him to correct them; this nowhere town is perfect for someone like him. It’s easy to keep a low profile, so long as you don’t throw parties or have the terror of a yapping chihuahua alerting its owner of a runaway leaf. He figures he could hunker down for a hundred years in this neighborhood and no one would be none the wiser.

He nearly jumps out of his skin when his phone goes off. “Who the _fuck_ \--Oh.” He visibly relaxes when he sees Casey’s number on the screen and answers the call. “Yo.”

“Hey, Alex!” Casey sounds cheerful as always. “You wanna chill after class and get started on our project?”

Alex’s neutral tone doesn’t match the grimace that crosses his face. “Sure. I don’t have anything else to do tonight. I have work tomorrow, though.”

“Sweet! Do you want anything? I can grab snacks before I head in.”

“Uh…” Alex’s eyes flicker to his bag. “No, thanks. I got some stuff I can bring.”

“Are you sure?” He can hear the disappointment that makes its way into Casey’s voice. “What about coffee?”

“I’m good. See you later.” Alex doesn’t give him a chance to respond before he ends the call and slips his phone back into his pocket. He sighs heavily, pauses, and chuckles to himself, a humorless sound. “Can’t tell if he’s just trying to be nice or if he’s hitting on me…”

The rest of the evening passes in a blur, from the cab ride to campus, class being interesting and boring at the same time (he chalks that up to being tired; normally, he enjoys it), to only half-listening to Casey’s input on their project. Alex can’t get out of the library fast enough when they’re finished, quickly leaving Casey behind as he calls a cab home. On the way, he idly reads through the messages he exchanged with his secret admirer. If he can call the sick fuck that. He’s still not sure what else to call him.

He chews his bottom lip for a few moments, then lets his fingers glide over the touch screen.

> **what’s up?**

It’s such a casual question. So casual, Alex almost snorts out loud at the ridiculousness of it. But his mind is racing, and he couldn’t figure out anything better to say. ‘Is she dead yet?’ would be insensitive, and he _really_ doesn’t want to think about the poor woman’s fate, present or pending.

There’s no response for several minutes, and Alex nearly loses himself in watching buildings pass by when his phone buzzes.

>> **I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon. Miss me that much? ;)**

>> **I’m watching a movie~**

Alex rolls his eyes.

> **in your dreams. i’m just bored. what movie?**

>> **Home movie. It’s nice to think back on good times. Want to see?**

The man doesn’t wait for Alex’s response before a picture comes through. It’s hard to see through the glare from the television, and Alex has to squint for a few moments before he realizes what he’s looking at: it’s another victim--a man this time--bloody and crying...with a dick shoved into his mouth.

Alex feels like he’s going through the seven stages of grief before he finally lets out a soft laugh. He quickly covers his mouth, eyes flickering towards the front seat. His driver doesn’t seem to notice.

> **cute. for a second there i thought he was enjoying a little hot dog.**

>> **:(**

Alex’s smile widens despite himself. He _knows_ he shouldn’t egg this guy on, but he can’t help himself. What’s the worst that could happen? He gets killed? As if he hasn’t been through that over a dozen times in a variety of ways.

> **what? you’re the one that showed me your dick without me saying yes. unless you’re the guy with the dick in his mouth. in which case, i’m not impressed by how little you can fit in there.**

He starts to wonder if he fucked up as the following minutes pass with no response. He’s paid his cab and reached the front door of his house before his phone buzzes again.

>> **Oh, you’re going to be so much fun to tear apart, liebling~ You’re so fiery~ It’s been a while since I’ve played with someone like you~**

> **only if you can catch me, fucker. ;)**

>> **When I find you, we’re going to spend a LOT of quality time together. Don’t worry, I’ll make it worth the wait. Now. Since you’re so talkative, how about another hint? :)**

> **no. i already gave you one tonight.**

>> **Please?**

Alex narrows his eyes. _He shouldn’t._

> **i’m in college.**

>> **There’s only two colleges in this area~**

Alex doesn’t like the way he says that. It takes several moments for his heart to jump into his throat when he realizes what he’s done. If this murderous asshole’s been hunting in the area for any number of years, he’s likely familiar with it; unlike Alex himself, who’s only been in the neighborhood for a couple of months. Which means he just narrowed down the hunting grounds significantly.

_Shit._

>> **Are you scared yet, liebling?**

Alex bares his teeth in a silent snarl at the screen.

> **fuck you.**

>> **Oh, I will. ;)**

> **whatever. i’m going to bed. since you got two hints tonight, you’re not getting another one tomorrow. you’ll just have to wait.**

>> **That’s fine, liebling. I’m patient. :)**

Alex groans and tosses his phone onto his desk after plugging it into the charger. “Barely known this guy for a night and I already hate him.” Shaking his head, he retreats to the shower to let his thoughts run down the drain.


	3. Bloody Haze

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex goes on an emotional roller coaster that ends with him riding a high that most people would never consider.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while, but I plan on updating more often! Alex's muse is back and bothering the hell out of me.
> 
> Edit: If you'd like to rp/interact directly with Alex, he has a tumblr now! >> https://ask-immortal-alex.tumblr.com

The next night, Alex finds himself staring blankly up at the ceiling in a hotel room. His thoughts wander, nonsensical blips of memories crossing his line of sight. He’s brought out of them by a soft nudge at his arm, and the smell of smoke.

“Mm…?”

“I asked if you wanted a smoke,” his companion for the night, Carl, says with a chuckle. The man is one of the nicer clients Alex has encountered in his line of work, and he appreciates the seemingly genuine kindness he displays.

Managing a small smile, Alex shifts on the bed to sit up on one elbow, taking the cigarette with his free hand. “Thanks.”

“You seem lost tonight, doll. You all right?”

Alex ponders his words as he takes a drag, letting the smoke drift from his nostrils with a sigh. “I’m fine. Just have a lot on my mind. College and all that.” Carl is one of the few clients he has that he feels comfortable being marginally open with. He knows every meeting is expected to have no strings attached, but he can’t help but find a tiny part of him enjoys Carl’s company. _One_ string couldn’t hurt, right?

Carl returns his smile, a sympathetic look crossing his features as he reaches up and gently brushes a lock of Alex’s black hair away from his face. “College sucked. All those hours cramming for exams and the mile long research papers? Downing coffee like your life depended on you not sleeping? Wouldn’t do it again even for a million bucks.”

That gets a soft laugh out of Alex, and his smile softens. He hands Carl the rest of the cigarette. “Yeah, it’s a pain in the ass.”

“What are you in for again?”

“Nursing.”

“Right. Well,” a coy smile crosses Carl’s lips, “as good as you are with your hands, I doubt you’ll have any trouble with patients.”

Alex laughs again and suddenly, fluidly shifts to straddle Carl’s bare hips, a teasing grin on his face. “And as good as I am with my legs, I don’t have any trouble with _you._ ” He loves the way a blush creeps across Carl’s cheeks, as if this is the first time they’ve shared a bed.

He loves nights like this.

\-----

It’s almost five in the morning when Alex quietly gets dressed and gathers his belongings. He waits until his cab arrives before he slips out the door, casting one final glance towards Carl, who’s still sound asleep in bed.

On the way back to his house, he finds himself staring out the window as always, and his pleasant mood quickly drains into an unsatisfied lull. He expects it; the high from having such an _intimate_ connection with anyone is temporary, and he knows it always will be. He could blink, and suddenly it’s fifty years into the future and Carl’s gone and he’s alone.

Remembering that fact sours his mood further, and he ignores the cab driver’s wish for him to have a good day after he pays them and heads up to his front door. Once inside, he leans back against it and groans, runs a hand across his face.

He hates days like this.

Alex knows it’s a long shot given the time, but he takes out his phone and opens his texting app.

> **you awake?**

He waits ten minutes for a response, then sighs and makes his way up the stairs to the bathroom, stripping as he goes. There’s still no response by the time he sinks into the bathtub up to his nose. _Whatever._

Alex lets the hot water soothe his tension, but it only helps so much. Eventually, his gaze is drawn to a razor he keeps in a corner. He remembers being taught all through school that addictions are bad. Drugs, alcohol, sex...but no one talks about _dying._ He can’t help but chuckle at the thought as he reaches for the razor.

A soft moan escapes his lips when the sharp blade bites into his skin, starting at the wrist and stopping halfway up his forearm. The hot water makes it even easier for his blood to flow, and he sucks his bottom lip between his teeth, concentrating to keep his hand steady as he cuts into his other arm. Finished, he sighs, wine red eyes half-lidded, staring listless up towards the ceiling. It shouldn’t feel so good, feeling the life slowly drain from his body.

_Too slow..._ In one swift movement, he draws the blade across his throat, and Alex can’t help the choked moan that follows as even more blood pours from the wound. He’s only vaguely aware of the sound of his phone buzzing as his head slips beneath the water and his vision goes dark.

\-----

Alex jolts back to awareness with a sharp gasp, inhaling a mouthful of water in the process. He flails, grabs the side of the bathtub, and pulls himself up, coughing and sputtering. His lungs and throat burn, but beneath the adrenaline, there’s no instinctual fear that would typically accompany such sensations. It takes him several moments to ground himself and get his body to calm down, and even then, he’s left wheezing.

“Fuck…” He blindly reaches for the plug to let the now-red water drain. A shudder snakes down his spine as he recalls the sensations just before his death. “That was good…”

He carefully pushes himself to his feet and turns on the shower, lets the water wash off any lingering blood. Looking at one arm, he frowns. A part of him wishes that he had even a faint scar after he dies instead of coming back as if nothing happened. _Oh well._

He’s drying his hair when he checks his phone. His brow arches when he sees the time--almost an hour and a half since he got home. “Don’t usually take _that_ long to come back…” His gaze flickers to the tub. “Must’ve drowned once or twice.” The way he mutters the statement is as casual as one musing on the weather.

The next thing he notices is he has new text messages from his stalker ( _yeah, that sounds more appropriate_ ), the first being roughly thirty minutes since his initial question.

>> **I am now. How did you sleep, liebling? :)**

>> **I have a busy day planned. Lots of fun to be had with my guest.**

>> **I’ll be sure to send you the best parts~ ;)**

Alex wrinkles his nose.

> **i slept fine. no thanks on the snuff shit.**

He’s reached his bedroom the next time his phone buzzes.

>> **I was beginning to wonder if you fell back asleep. :)**

>> **Why not? Don’t you enjoy it?~**

> **you wish. i’m not interested in seeing what you do to people, but…**

>> **But?**

Alex flops onto his bed and purses his lips. His nerves are still buzzing from the memory of his most recent death. He knows he shouldn’t say what’s on his mind, but he’s too tired--and horny--to care.

> **i want to know what to expect. what do you like to do?**

>> **Oho, that’s not something I’ve been asked before. Why so curious, liebling?~**

> **just am. you going to spill the deets or not? consider it repayment for the hints you want from me.**

>> **I must say, I think this is going to be the best game I’ve had yet. ;)**

>> **Let’s see…**

>> **I love to make my guests scream. The louder the better! I hope you’re as mouthy in person as you are here, liebling. ;)**

Alex snorts, trailing a hand down to lazily stroke his member.

> **guess you’ll have to hope you get to find out. that’s one. what’s another?**

>> **I know I’ll get to find out, liebling.**

>> **You’ve seen my knife, ja?**

>> **I love cutting them up. Fast and slow~ Deep and shallow~**

Alex bites his lip and groans softly, his mind wandering to imagine that knife leaving bloody marks in his skin. His hand picks up its pace.

>> **What do you think, liebling? Should my first cut be deep or shallow?**

Alex curses internally, but the only sound he makes aloud is a low moan. It’s getting harder to focus on what keys he’s tapping with his free hand.

> **deop**

> **deep**

He can tell his response surprised his stalker with the pause that follows.

>> **Liebling...Tell me...you’re enjoying this, aren’t you?**

> **ffuck you**

>> **I will~ And I’ll be sure to choose the perfect place to put my knife. ;)**

>> **You’re going to scream for me, liebling~ You’re going to be in so much pain when I finish with you that the only thing you can remember is my name, and you’re going to beg me to stop~**

The next text makes Alex’s vision go red.

>> **I bet you’re screaming for me right now~**

Despite the wave of anger, he can’t resist moaning loudly and bucking his hips up into his hand. He _knows_ his stalker is egging him on in the worst of ways, but he’s too far gone. He’s high from dying, and from the _idea_ of dying. It’s a drug he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to get enough of.

>> **I can’t wait to tear you apart.**

Alex cries out and his vision goes white.


	4. The Braying Mule

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex hates crowds, and he doesn't realize just how close to Mr. Stalker he gets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to try and update more often! Also, I made a playlist for Alex that I'll be adding to as I go along. It's a mix of songs he'd jam to and songs that can/will sum up his and Strade's relationship. ;) If you have any suggestions to add to it, you're welcome to let me know in the comments and I'll add them!  
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3Bn6xkYr7m5KNLJ9dsxzmB?si=q2NBT18xTl6GQH4bq8nReg
> 
> Edit: If you'd like to rp/interact directly with Alex, he has a tumblr now! >> https://ask-immortal-alex.tumblr.com

Alex doesn’t remember falling asleep. By the time his eyes flutter open, it’s dark outside.

“What time is it…?” he murmurs, feeling around for his phone. It’s dead. “...Seriously? Great...”

His movements are sluggish as he pushes himself up and turns on the lamp next to his bed. Despite how long he slept, his body hasn’t recovered from what he now knows for sure is multiple deaths in a row. He yawns, debating on if he _really_ wants to get up and around or not. As if on cue, his stomach growls. He doesn’t notice his head is pounding until he stands up.

“Fuck’s sake…” Alex sighs and pulls on a pair of boxers and pajama pants, stumbling a little as he fights to get his legs to cooperate. “Come on. I’ve been through _way_ worse than this.”

Dressed, he takes his phone and phone charger and heads downstairs. He kicks the stray articles of clothing he left behind earlier down along the way, tosses them in the laundry room before going into the kitchen and plugging in the charger while he searches for something to eat.

“Pop Tarts, glass of milk, and Tylenol. Perfect.” Being alone so often, he’s long since stopped noticing his tendency to talk to himself. Halfway through one Pop Tart, his phone buzzes. Missed messages and one missed call.

It’s 9pm.

Alex opts to read the messages from Casey first.

>> **Hey, man, you want to work on our project tonight if you’re not busy?**

>> **I got the good coffee this time. :-)**

Alex sighs.

> **sorry. long night. slept late. migraine from hell. work tomorrow. what about friday?**

Seeing who the call is from, along with a voicemail, makes him pause. For a long moment, he considers just deleting it and moving on, but finally, he sighs again and plays the message.

_”Hi, sweetie! I thought I’d check in and make sure you’re doing okay. Your dad and I haven’t heard from you in a while. How’s college life? You’re such a smart kid, I’m sure you’re kicking everyone else’s tail! Well, I don’t want to talk your ear off here; you must be busy. Call me back when you get the chance, all right? Love you!”_

The sinking feeling that settles in the pit of Alex’s stomach leaves him in an even worse mood than he had been that morning. “Love you, too,” he mutters.

_’Message deleted.’_

He takes a moment to finish his Pop Tart before checking the messages left by Mr. Stalker.

>> **You went quiet, liebling. Did I really get you that riled up? ;)**

A couple hours pass before the next messages are sent.

>> **How deep do you want yours?~**

Alex bites his lip as his eyes scan the photos. Deeply bruised patches of skin littered with cuts. Some of them are open, others are stitched up. The last one, a laceration that has to be at least a couple inches deep, catches his attention.

> **i had a long night and passed out, asshole.**

> **i told you i don’t want to see your snuff shit.**

> **that last one is nice though. :p**

>> **Baha! And yet you tell me your preference. ;)**

>> **I do have a question, liebling.**

>> **You see, it’s no fun if my guests want a...free way out, understand?**

>> **And you’ve been very open with me.**

>> **So, liebling, tell me, are you trying to use my fun as a way to end your life?**

It takes a long moment for Alex to fully register the inquiry. When the realization sinks in, he bursts out laughing hard enough that he doubles over with an arm around his middle. By the time he catches his breath, tears are running down his face and he’s sitting on the floor with his phone in his lap.

“Fucking hell!”

> **LOL you wish.**

> **i’m not suicidal you dipshit i’m just not afraid of you or what you can do.**

>> **Oh? Why not?**

>> **You should be. :)**

> **don’t have a reason to be. i’ve had a pretty good life so far.**

> **it’d suck if it ended already, but i’m not worried about it.**

> **the least i can say is that i’ve LIVED. nothing’s gone to waste.**

> **so why worry?**

>> **You really are an interesting person, liebling. I look forward to getting to spend a lot of quality time with you. :)**

>> **Speaking of, I believe it’s time for another hint. ;)**

Alex blindly reaches up to the counter for his glass of milk and brings it down, sipping as he ponders what to give up next. His gaze flickers to his left hand.

> **let’s stir things up a bit. i’ll give you two in one.**

> **i’m left-handed and my middle and ring fingers are a little crooked.**

> **it’s not really noticeable but i broke them when i was a kid.**

> **happy?**

>> **Oh yes. I love looking for little details like that. :)**

>> **I have a feeling we’ll be meeting very soon, liebling~**

Alex rolls his eyes.

> **in your dreams.**

\-----

The next two days pass almost normally. Aside from the fact that Alex knows he pissed off Mr. Stalker.

>> **Come on, liebling. You said two in one. So give another~**

> **nope.**

>> **Please?**

> **no. and if you don’t stop begging like a stray dog you won’t get one tomorrow.**

>> **Fine.**

_The next day…_

>> **Hello, liebling~ Time for another hint~**

> **ok.**

> **you’re really going to like this one.**

>> **Oh?~**

> **yeah.**

> **it’s…**

> **you can suck my dick. ;)**

>> **Haha, good one, liebling. What’s the real hint?**

> **that’s it.**

>> **No, it’s not.**

> **yep.**

>> **No. That’s now how the game works, liebling.**

>> **Give another hint.**

> **oh no. i’m SO scared. what are you going to do? send an angry emoji my way?**

>> **I’ve been patient. You better be good. Give another hint.**

>> **Now.**

> **listen. you’ve played this ‘game’ over and over. and i’m willing to bet that everyone else has bowed down to your ass.**

> **here’s a wakeup call, fucker. this is MY game, and we’re going to play by MY rules from now on.**

> **you’ll get another hint when i fucking feel like it. in the meantime, i have a date with my homework.**

>> **Du kleiner Scheißer. >:( **

> **idk what that means but i’m assuming it means you’re going to jack off your tiny dick to your ‘home videos’.**

> **have fun with that.**

>> **What is the point of your rules? To mock me?**

> **nah.**

> **i just wanted to ruffle your feathers.**

> **looks like it’s working. ;)**

>> **Savor this while you can, liebling. You won’t be feeling so smug when I have my hands around your throat.**

> **we’ll see about that.**

\-----

Saturday night, Alex finds himself leaning against the wall outside of a bar, waiting for a new client his boss set him up with. Restless sitting in one spot, his eyes wander, watching the people that filter in and out of the building. Eventually, the sign above the door catches his attention, prompting him to take a flier out of his pocket.

“THE BRAYING MULE  
Friendliest Bar In Town”

Alex scoffs softly and looks back towards the entrance. Even from his position, he can hear the lively chatter and upbeat music playing. It really seems to live up to its reputation. He hates it.

The sound of someone clearing their throat catches his attention, and he blinks up at the man standing in front of him. “I’m sorry to bother you. Are you...Red, by chance?”

Alex manages a winning, warm smile. “Sure am. You must be Thomas. Reese sent you, yeah?”

The man nods. He’s about Alex’s height with sandy blond hair and eyes that are such a pale shade of green, they almost look white. Alex can’t help but immediately make the decision to commit them to memory.

“Well. Shall we?” Alex’s smile widens as he offers a hand to Thomas, who takes it. Thomas’ plain nervousness is endearing. “Relax,” he says, leading him into the bar. “Tonight’s going to be great.” Despite his reassurance, Alex has to fight the urge to balk when he sees how many people are around. It’s not packed, but there are enough to make him uncomfortable. Holding his head high, he pushes through to the bar.

Once he and Thomas have settled on a couple of bar stools, he does his best to lean against the counter and position himself in an inviting manner. “So, Thomas. Tell me a little about yourself.”

Thomas worries his bottom lip. “O-Oh, well...I’m just a small time salesman, really.” As he rambles, Alex skillfully tunes him out just enough that he can listen along but people watch at the same time.

One in particular catches his attention within moments: a man with wavy brown hair and gold eyes. He’s leaning against an empty booth, appearing to do the same thing Alex is. He realizes a second too late when the man meets his gaze, and the wide, friendly grin that crosses his face immediately causes the hairs on the back of Alex’s neck stand on end. He returns it with a scowl before he quickly focuses his full attention back on Thomas.

_Creep._

The longer his and Thomas’ small talk goes on, the more uncomfortable and on edge Alex gets. He can _feel_ the strange man’s gaze burning a hole through his skull. He’s used to people staring when he dresses in his skin-tight tank and skinny jeans for nights with clients, but he _knows_ the kind of look the man is giving him.

_Predator._

The tension comes to a head when some nearby patrons break out in drunken guffaws and one of them stumbles straight into the stool behind Alex, half-crashing into him and spilling their drink all down his back.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” Alex jumps up, bristling as he turns to the laughing person, who’s trying and failing to sputter out a half-assed apology. “Dude, what the fuck is your problem?!”

“Red, I think it was just an accident…” Thomas’ words don’t reach Alex’s ears, overshadowed by one of the drunk’s friend’s slurred giggles.

“Shit, Troy, you knocked into the whore. Better apologize. Maybe he’ll suck your dick as thanks.”

More laughter.

Alex barely resists the urge to punch one of the men in the face. Instead, he shoves past them, flipping them off as they catcall after him.

He’s halfway down the block when he hears footsteps hurrying after him. Alex wheels around, tense with his fists balled up, only to blink in surprise when he sees it’s just Thomas.

“Are--Are you all right?” Thomas gasps a little as he catches his breath. “I’m sorry. You...You didn’t deserve that.”

Alex bites his lip and looks down, taking a deep breath. His hands relax at his sides. “...Yeah. Sorry. I’m used to that sort of shit, but I, uh…” He shakes his head, looking back up at Thomas and offering a small smile. “Never mind. Why don’t we go somewhere less crowded? If you’re still interested, anyway. Promise I’m not just a hotheaded asshole.”

Thomas chuckles softly and shakes his head. “It’s all right. Honestly, I think people in your line of work are stronger than most of us. I…” His nervousness returns, and he rubs the back of his neck. “I have a hotel room…”

“That’s perfect.” Alex’s smile widens, more genuine. “You driving?”

“Sure. My truck’s this way...”

Alex feels better as he takes Thomas’ hand and lets him lead the way.

He misses the man standing just inside the entrance of the Braying Mule, watching the pair’s every move.


	5. Hide and Seek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mr. Stalker has a "surprise" for Alex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: If you'd like to rp/interact directly with Alex, he has a tumblr now! >> https://ask-immortal-alex.tumblr.com

The rest of the weekend passes without word from Mr. Stalker. Monday, Tuesday, then Wednesday follow. Still nothing. On Thursday, Alex purses his lips, staring at the old messages.

> **hey.**

> **we still on or did you give up?**

Two hours go by before his phone buzzes.

>> **Hello, liebling. :)**

>> **I’ve been very busy, but we are still playing.**

>> **It won’t be much longer now.**

Alex frowns.

> **much longer until what?**

>> **Until my surprise is ready!**

>> **I’ve been planning something extra special for you. ;)**

> **let me guess. no hints?**

>> **No hints. You’ll just have to be patient like a good boy~**

As a week comes and goes, Alex finds that he would have preferred to repeat the night at the Braying Mule at least three times to the anxiety that’s steadily crawled up his spine since Mr. Stalker told him about the “surprise.” Since then, he’s dodged every question or attempt to rile him up that Alex sent his way, and he _really_ doesn’t like it.

It’s another Friday when Alex steps out of his cab and bids the driver a good night. His attention is drawn to his phone buzzing erratically in his pocket.

“What the fuck…?” Taking it out, his brows furrow as he reads the sudden influx of messages from Mr. Stalker.

>> **Liebling!**

>> **LIEBLING!**

>> **Hey!**

>> **Check your phone before you do anything else!**

>> **I have an important question.**

>> **You HAVE to answer before we continue.**

> **wtf?**

> **why are you blowing up my phone for a question?**

>> **Because I have to check.**

>> **Is this right?**

Alex’s blood runs cold when he sees the picture.

It’s his bedroom.

He quickly looks up towards the window on the second story of his house, but the lights are off and he doesn’t see anything looking back at him. _Shit._

> **yeah.**

> **you’re right.**

>> **Oh good!**

> **what now?**

>> **Now, we move to the next part of the game.**

>> **Come inside.**

>> **See if you can outsmart me.**

>> **If you last until the sun comes up, then I’ll let you go.**

>> **If not, I win. ;)**

> **and what if i call the cops?**

>> **We both know you won’t. :)**

> **how did you even find my house?**

>> **That’s a topic best for talking about in person.**

>> **Come on, liebling~**

>> **I’m very excited.**

>> **Less talk, more play~**

Alex’s hands are shaking as he fumbles with his keys to unlock the front door, and he can hear his pulse pounding in his ears. He knows he should be afraid. He would be if he was anyone else. Underneath his annoyance at being found out before he could be on his own terms, he’s _excited._ His phone buzzes again after he shuts the door behind him.

>> **Keep your phone on you, liebling.**

>> **I want to be able to communicate with you. ;)**

> **fine, but it’s going on silent.**

>> **That’s fine. Hearing it go off would make you much too easy to find. :)**

Alex squints, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. He knows better than to turn on any lights. There’s a long moment where he leans against the door, listening. Silence. Slowly, carefully, he makes his way to the kitchen and retrieves a large knife.

_Not going down without a fight._

He isn’t sure where to go. Mr. Stalker could be anywhere in the house, and that idea alone is unnerving. It’s an old building with three stories and an attic. At the very least, he reasons, he has one advantage: he knows where every creaky floorboard and door is, and how to avoid them. After another long moment of deliberating, he takes out his phone again.

> **hey.**

> **can i at least get a hint on where to start?**

> **i don’t exactly want to start walking to the second floor and run into you on the stairs.**

>> **Sure. :)**

>> **There wouldn’t be any fun in finding you that quickly.**

>> **I’m in the attic.**

>> **I’ll give you ten minutes before I start looking for you. ;)**

_Okay. Okay. I can figure out a plan._

The first thing he does is take off his shoes, leaving just his socks. Then, moving with determination, Alex quickly climbs the first set of stairs without a sound.

_The bathroom is too obvious. So is that closet; it’s too empty..._ He eyes the second set of stairs. _I don’t think he’d expect me to hide so close to him..._

Alex is carefully making his way down the long hallway on the third floor when he checks his phone. Five minutes left. It’s harder to decide where to go, walking around in the dark. He warily watches the door of a spare bedroom as he passes for any movement; it leads to the attic. His eyes dart up to the ceiling. He hasn’t been in the attic more than a handful of times since he moved in last year, but he knows about how much room it has. Where he is now, he has to be _extra_ careful. For all he knows, Mr. Stalker could be right above his head.

He reaches the last spare room and slips inside, closing the door behind him. It’s empty for the most part, but he remembers there being a few big boxes in the closet. Alex breathes a sigh of relief when he finds them. There’s just enough room for him to squeeze past and hide behind them so he’s sitting in the darkened corner and not immediately visible. He checks his phone again.

>> **Time’s up! :)**

> **so, what now? i just sit in one spot and hope you don’t find me?**

>> **If you want. Or you can try to avoid me.**

>> **Whatever you’d like to do, liebling.**

>> **I’ll still find you. ;)**

_Like hell you will._

It’s hard for Alex to focus with his heart pounding in his chest. Combined with the eerie silence in the tiny closet, and the room next to it, his adrenaline is the highest he thinks it’s ever been. It’s invigorating, and if he wasn’t on high alert, he’s sure he’d be grinning.

Ten minutes pass.

Twenty.

Thirty.

Forty.

> **give up yet?**

>> **Baha! Never. I’m taking my time. :)**

>> **Are you nervous?~**

> **in your dreams.**

Alex sighs softly and toys with the knife he grabbed. He’s restless. The longer he stays in the closet, the more he finds he feels like a sitting duck.

_Fuck it._

Pressing his ear against the wall, he listens for any noise in the room. Nothing. He bites his bottom lip and slips out from his hiding place, peeks out of the closet door. Part of him expects to see Mr. Stalker standing there waiting on him, but the room is just as empty as when he first came in. He plays the same strategy when he reaches the door that leads into the hall. Still nothing.

Alex’s mind races as he tries to think of his next move. For all he knows, Mr. Stalker is still on the same floor, or he could be below him. On the other hand, he finds how _quiet_ everything is unnerving. The old house has so many creaks in it that there’s no way Mr. Stalker could know how to tiptoe around all of them.

...Right?

He takes another moment to gather himself, then slips out into the hall. Empty. With the same caution as when he made his way to the room, he heads toward the stairs. Alex pauses at the door leading to the attic’s entrance, and peeks into the cracked doorway. His heart leaps into his throat when he sees it’s open and the ladder is down.

_So he’s_ not _just fucking with me._

The sound of a faint shuffling-- _Clothes? Pants legs rubbing against each other?_ \--sends Alex into a panic. He can’t tell where the sound came from. Retracing his steps, he bolts back down the hall and into the room he’d just left.

He leans against the door, silently panting and trying to steady his breathing. _This is fucking ridiculous. What am I running from?_ He checks his phone.

>> **I can smell you, liebling~**

>> **You have a very particular cologne~**

_Fuck._

He hears the shuffle again. _Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!_ This time, he races across the room and crouches down behind one of the old plush loveseats. It’s easier to hide in the dark, and he can see the door from his position.

Moments later, the door opens. Slow, careful. It’s hard to make out features, but Alex can tell the man is a bit taller than him and with a sturdier build. He squints as the man takes a deep breath and turns towards the closet.

_Is that...wavy hair…?_

His eyes widen as the realization hits him, and he has to cover his mouth and nose to keep from making a noise. _The man from the bar. It_ has _to be him._ His heartbeat thunders in his ears, and he struggles to stay focused as the man quietly walks to the closet with a gait that is far too lazy and at ease for the situation. His attention shifts between the man and the door. If he plays his cards right, he _should_ be able to slip out without being noticed.

He waits until the man is rummaging through the boxes, moving them out of his way. The man’s whole upper half is inside the closet. Alex takes his chance and uses the spare furniture as cover to bolt out of the room. He doesn’t stop until he’s on the second floor and leaning against the wall, panting. He strains to listen.

Silence.

_Where do I go now?_

There’s a part of Alex that wants to get to his bedroom and hide under the bed. It’s such an obvious place that Mr. Stalker potentially wouldn’t think about it. On the other hand, Alex muses, if he’s smart, he might expect that sort of move. He knows his house inside and out like the back of his hand, but he’s never had any reason to think of hiding places. He’s out of his element. Letting out a long, slow breath, he glances up towards the stairs.

Nothing.

_Guess I’ll make it up as I go along._ He shakes his head and begins to tiptoe down the hall.

He senses the presence behind him a second too late.

Alex lets out a yelp as a strong pair of arms grab him. He tries to flail, to swing back with the knife, but the man grabs his wrist and twists it. The knife clatters to the floor.

“Found you, my _liebling_ ~” A cheery voice purrs in his ear.

Alex’s world spins as the man grabs his hair and roughly turns him around. He gets a glimpse of gleaming gold eyes and a wide grin just before his head is slammed into the wall. His vision goes black.


	6. Strade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's play time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: If you'd like to rp/interact directly with Alex, he has a tumblr now! >> https://ask-immortal-alex.tumblr.com

Alex’s head hurts.

_What happened…?_

Consciousness comes slowly, and it’s only after he tries to move that he snaps awake. His wrists are tied behind him. The gears in his head turn a little faster as the last events he remembers rush to the forefront of his mind.

_Right...Stupid fucking game of cat and mouse..._

Alex blinks a few times, looking around. The room is dark, and it’s hard to make out details. The most he can glean is that he’s tied to a pole. He’s alone.

The next thing that bubbles to the surface, overpowering his groggy confusion, is rage. _How the_ fuck _did that bastard find me so quick?_

“Hey--” Alex’s voice cracks. His throat’s dry. He swallows thickly and tries again. “ _Hey!_ Asshole! Where the hell are you?!”

Silence.

Then, heavy footsteps.

Alex winces as light suddenly floods the room and his captor makes his way down the stairs.

“You’re already awake!” The man’s bright grin pisses off Alex even more, and he returns it with a scowl. “How are you feeling, buddy?~” His thick German accent only solidifies that this is _definitely_ Mr. Stalker.

“I’m not your ‘buddy’, dickhead.” Alex grumbles.

The man laughs cheerfully and moves closer, kneeling in front of him. “Fine, fine. I suppose that’s fair, _liebling._ " He raises a hand to touch Alex’s cheek, then quickly pulls it away when the smaller man tries to bite it. He chuckles, far from put off. “ _Lebhaft~_ I’m glad to see your…” He pauses, tilts his head thoughtfully. “You have fight in you~ I’m glad your antics over the phone weren’t just an act~”

Alex rolls his eyes. “Why would they be?”

“You’d be surprised how many people try to act tough, but once I have them, they break apart.” The man pouts at the thought, and Alex finds he _really_ wants to tear his face off. “But I have a feeling you’re different, so we’ll get along just fine~”

“Kind of hard to get along when I don’t know your name.”

Surprise flickers across the man’s face, then he laughs. “Right! Sorry, I’m so used to introductions being done and over with by this point that it slipped my mind. The name’s Strade~ And you, _liebling_...you’re Alex, _ja?~_ ”

“Yeah.” Alex squints at Strade, taking in his features. He has a strong jawline with some stubble dusted across it, along with a small scar on the left side of his chin. If the circumstances were any different and he wasn’t so _annoyingly_ cheerful, Alex might have found him attractive. “You know...Strade sounds like some kind of fancy stripper name.”

Before Strade can react, Alex continues, “So. Before we go any further, I have questions. That’s not going to be a problem, is it? I’m not exactly in a hurry to get started with whatever bullshit ‘entertainment’ you have planned, and you said that at least one of them was better for a face to face conversation, right?”

Strade purses his lips and feigns taking his words into serious consideration. “I have an idea. Let’s make a game of it!” His wide grin returns as he pulls out a large hunting knife--Alex recognizes it as the same one from the videos. “You ask one question at a time, and as I’m answering, I get to have some fun of my own~”

“I _guess_ \--hey, what the hell are you doing?” Alex presses back against the pole as Strade lowers his knife towards him.

“Your clothing’s in the way~”

Alex scowls again. “Really? You plan on cutting up my favorite hoodie?” He almost laughs when he sees genuine confusion briefly flicker across Strade’s face. “You and I both know I’m a dead man running on borrowed time at this point, so one favor: whatever the fuck you plan on doing, bury me in my hoodie at the very least.”

Strade huffs a small laugh and tilts his head, giving Alex a quizzical look. “You really are a strange one, _liebling_ , but I suppose, just for you, I can do that~” Leaning in, he reaches behind Alex and unties the ropes keeping him trapped against the pole. He smells of some sort of machine oil. “Take off your clothes, but stay on the floor. Got it?~”

“Got it.” Alex takes a moment to rub his wrists, doesn’t miss the way Strade’s expression has turned hungry. He considers the idea of really throwing him off with a strip tease, but opts to play along for now. He pulls off his hoodie with just enough hesitation that he knows will come across as being more nervous than he really is. His shirt and pants follow. He pauses at his boxers. The floor is cold.

“You want me to take these off, too?”

“They can stay~” A pause. A dark smirk. “For now.”

Alex is about to ask what’s next when Strade swiftly moves in, ties his hands back around the pole tighter than before. His protest dies in his throat when Strade uses the flat of his hunting knife to force his chin up so their eyes meet.

“You’re so...unbroken...~” Strade runs an invasive hand across Alex’s chest and down to his stomach. “So fiery, and yet barely a mark on you.” He chuckles low, the sound nearly a growl. “Tell me, _liebling,_ have you ever screamed for someone before?”

Alex pauses in his response again, this time following Strade’s hand as he brings the knife down to his thigh. He barely has time to process what’s happening before the blade has sunk a good couple of inches into him and cut towards his knee. He can’t help the scream, or the tears that spring to his eyes.

_”FUCK!”_ He hates how his voice cracks and the way Strade’s eyes light up with excitement. His heart’s pounding in his chest, and he instinctively tries to pull his legs away when Strade pins them with his own. “W-Wait, _don’t_ \--” Another scream, followed by choked cries and sobs as Strade makes quick work of cutting deep into his flesh, carving out several marks. By the time he finishes, Alex is feeling dizzy, and he only vaguely realizes that the sadistic fucker’s avoided hitting any major arteries. It takes him longer to notice the excited flush that’s crept across Strade’s face.

“You have a beautiful voice~” Alex growls weakly in response to the compliment. Strade chuckles. “Don’t give me that, _liebling~_ I gave you exactly what you asked for, remember…?~”

Alex shudders and glances between Strade’s eyes and the bloody cuts on his legs. “Didn’t...let me ask a question first, dickhead.”

“I’m sorry, I just got so excited I couldn’t help myself~”

“You don’t _sound_ sorry.”

Strade chuckles. “What is your question?” He toys with a patch of unmarked skin with the tip of his knife. “Better hurry before I get impatient again~”

“How did you find me?”

“Simple! I followed you and your friend to the hotel! I rented a room, stayed up all night, and waited for you to come out. I didn’t expect you to leave alone, but following your cab was easy.”

“Not my house, asshole,” Alex snaps. “ _Me._ ”

Strade grins and pushes the knife into Alex’s leg, earning another pained cry that sends excited shivers down his spine. “Your fingers~ Remember your hint about being left-handed and two of them being crooked? I noticed when you flipped those people off before running out of the pub. It was too specific to be coincidental~”

Alex groans, half from the pain, half from annoyance at his own stupidity. _Remind me to not pull shit like that next time._ When Strade pulls out the knife, he has to fight to regain his focus. He’s been hurt tons of times, but _torture_ is a whole different ball game. It's almost too much. He loves it.

“Next...Next question. How…” He trails off, notices the way Strade is openly, hungrily looking at his wounds. “...Penny for your thoughts?”

A low, predatory chuckle rumbles up from Strade’s chest. “You won’t last like this…” His eyes flicker up to meet Alex’s. “Want me to stitch these up?” As if to emphasize his point, he digs a finger into one of the cuts.

Alex lets out a yelp and reflexively jerks. The rope around his wrists burns. “No! Fuck no. I d-don’t--don’t want any of your bullshit near me. Fuck off.”

“Are you _sure_ …?~” Strade’s grin widens, digs another finger into a different cut. He’s panting lightly, and his pants are beginning to feel too tight. “Are you afraid it will hurt?~”

“ _Fuck off!_ ”

Releasing his leg, Strade reaches up with the same hand to clamp it around Alex’s throat. The defiant fire that burns in the smaller man’s gaze is refreshing, new. Exciting. He can’t help but moan softly. “This...isn’t enough,” he murmurs.

Alex’s confusion quickly dies, replaced by recognition as soon as Strade stands and unzips his pants. Before he can think, he blurts out, “Wait!”

The only thing that makes Strade pause is Alex’s tone. It’s not fearful. It’s...steady. Confident.

Alex takes a deep, shaky breath. He’s got to have _some_ control in this situation, or he thinks he’ll lose his mind. He _hates_ not having any say in _anything_. “Do you want to have a good time or a great time?” As best he can, given his current predicament and how much pain he’s in, he shifts to display a more inviting demeanor. “If you want a great time, get me a glass of water. That’s all, and I won’t stop you.” He manages a tired smirk. “And I won’t bite your dick off.”

Something about the way he says it intrigues Strade. He’s not used to his guests having this much fire to them, much less making threats that he has a feeling Alex really would try to make good on. _Interesting~_

Alex has to consciously hide his surprise when, after a moment’s hesitation, Strade moves out of his line of sight, followed by the sound of water running. He takes the time to look at his legs. He really is bleeding too much to last long at this rate.

_The cuts are so…_ He feels a throb as heat pools to his groin. _Deep._

He’s startled out of his train of thought by Strade yanking his head up by his hair. He has to scramble to keep up with what’s happening as a glass is roughly pressed against his lips and the water all but poured down his throat.

“You could have--” Alex coughs a little when he can finally breathe again-- “warned me.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Strade returns coyly. “Now…” His hands return to his pants, unbuckling his belt. He sighs softly in relief as he frees himself from their confines. “You have a promise to keep, _liebling._ ” The sing-song tone is absent from his voice, an unspoken threat.

Alex hesitates to take in the _size_ of him. Not the biggest he’s taken, but still… He nearly shakes his head to get the thought out of it. Of all things he _shouldn’t_ be doing, it’s fantasizing about riding his captor’s cock. Instead, he plasters a determined expression on his face and takes the head into his mouth. He had planned on teasing and working his way up, but Strade’s patience runs out shortly after he starts using his tongue.

Strade expects Alex to choke and struggle when he suddenly grabs his hair and forces his cock down his throat. He’s surprised when Alex makes a strange sound he realizes is a moan and shows no signs of having a hard time.

“You really are full of surprises, _liebling~_ ” He purrs, starts to roughly fuck Alex’s mouth. “You’re _enjoying_ this, aren’t you?~” The way Alex’s garnet eyes widen, then narrow into a half-hearted, defiant glare despite the bright blush across his face only spurs him on. It doesn’t take him long to establish a steady rhythm, and he begins to pant the longer he keeps it up.

_Just a little more…~_

Strade abruptly pulls Alex’s head close so that his mouth is flush against the base of his cock. He groans loudly, holds him there as he empties himself and rides the high of his orgasm. After a long moment, he finally lets go and steps back, grinning in response to Alex’s gasping for breath. Fixing his pants and straightening his shirt, he crouches down in front of the smaller man, golden gaze wandering over his bowed head, the way his chest heaves with each gulp of air, the blood smeared all over his legs...the bulge in his underwear.

Chuckling, Strade pats Alex’s head and ruffles his hair, earning a disgruntled growl. “You’re a lot of fun, _liebling~_ I can’t wait to see what else we get to do~ In the meantime--” he ignores the confused glare as he stands-- “I’m going to be good. You rest up~”

Alex stammers out a series of unintelligible sounds, visibly bristling before he finds his words. “Hey! You didn’t let me ask my next question! Don’t fucking walk off, you piece of shit!”

The basement door slams shut and the lights go out, leaving Alex in darkness. Alone.

“Fucking hell…” He sighs, wincing. He’s cold. He’s in pain. And he’s horny. Not the most ideal combination. “Should’ve bit his dick off…”

Alex quickly loses track of time, isn’t sure how long has passed in general since Strade slammed his head into the wall. Finally, his shoulders slump in exhaustion, and he drifts off into a restless sleep.


	7. Control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex gets a choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rip to the days I got delayed by the depresso™ |D Next chapter, things are going to heat up even more~ ;3
> 
> Edit: If you'd like to rp/interact directly with Alex, he has a tumblr now! >> https://ask-immortal-alex.tumblr.com

The concept of time is still lost to Alex when he stirs. Has he slept minutes? Hours? The way his stomach twists in hunger distracts him from his pondering. He sighs and tries to stretch, then freezes. 

The rope is loose. 

Despite his exhaustion, amusement bubbles up and he chuckles quietly. “Fucking idiot…” Carefully, he tugs and twists his wrists. After a moment, he slips free. A wave of relief washes over him as he rubs where the rope has dug into his skin. 

If Alex was anyone else, he muses, he would probably try to find a way out or something to defend himself with, but it’s far too early into things for it to end. _At the very least, I can try to find something to eat._

He almost forgets about the cuts in his legs before he tries to stand, hissing in pain. Crawling it is. Squinting into the darkness, he spots what looks like a small fridge against one of the walls. His heart is pounding in his chest as he slowly makes his way towards it. He doesn’t expect the bright light that floods the room when he pulls open the door, and he flinches, covering his eyes to give them time to adjust. 

“All right. What do we--” Alex stops in his tracks when he registers what he’s looking at. Tupperware containers. Stacks of them. Filled with human hearts. Once the initial shock passes, he snorts and shakes his head, busies himself with inspecting the other areas of the fridge. “If I didn’t think he was crazy before…” He sighs again when all he sees by way of something to drink is cheap beer; he knows from his nursing classes that alcohol would make his dehydration worse. And he can’t risk trying to get to the sink on the other side of the room. Great. 

Finally, what looks like a ziplock bag with a cooked steak in it catches his attention. Taking it, he purses his lips, debating. It looks like a normal steak, but considering the other things it was stored with… He shakes his head. “I don’t have time for this.” Steeling himself, he pulls open the bag and unceremoniously begins to eat the steak as fast as he can. It _tastes_ normal, at least. He tries to not think about what else it might be.

Alex sits on the floor for a few moments after stuffing the empty bag back into the fridge and closing it. His thoughts wander as he makes his way back to the pole, fidgets with the rope and gets it back around his wrists. _I wonder just how many people have been in my position down here._ They wander to the woman who was presumably Strade’s last victim. There’s no sign that she was ever here, aside from a faint scent of copper and what’s probably some sort of cleaning products. It’s hard to tell what’s old and what’s from him. Much of what Strade’s done to him so far feels like it’s routine; the maniac is far too comfortable and prepared for it to be anything else. Alex wonders if he does the same one each time or if there’s variation. 

\-----

Alex startles awake when something kicks his leg. His eyes snap open and he has to blink against the bright light filling the room. After a moment, his gaze settles on the form of Strade standing in front of him, already grinning. When did he fall asleep? 

“Morning, _liebling_ ~” Strade greets. His cheer brings a scowl to Alex’s face. “You really are an interesting catch~” 

As he’s about to ask what he means, Strade holds up the empty ziplock back and Alex feels himself go pale. His eyes flicker to the floor. The cuts on his legs had started bleeding while he was crawling, leaving a messy trail from the pole, to the fridge, and back. His attention goes back to Strade when he kneels down. 

“Of all the things you could have done, all you did was look for food, and then you came right back here~” Something dark finds its way into his tone as he lifts a hand as though he’s about to cup Alex’s cheek. It moves past and grabs a handful of his hair, yanks his head back, as he leans forward to look down into his eyes. “Why are you being so good?” 

Alex growls softly. “I can’t fucking walk, dickhead. I wouldn’t be able to make it up the stairs easily, much less try to outrun your ass. So, I opted for survival. If we’re going to keep up this bullshit, I’d rather last as long as I can than just fucking…” He trails off, searching for the right word. 

“Submit?” The way Strade purrs the word sends a whole new wave of rage through Alex’s body. “Give up? Beg?” He chuckles and pats Alex’s cheek before standing. “I understand, _liebling_. You’re trapped here with me, no idea of what I’ll do to you. Out of control--” his grin returns, predatory-- “and you _hate_ it, don’t you? You fought _so hard_ to stay two steps ahead of me when I got too close.” 

“Speaking of,” Alex interjects, tired of hearing the smug tone in his voice, “how the fuck did you find me so fast in the house? My cologne isn’t _that_ strong.” 

“Easy! I waited for you to come to me~” 

“...What?” 

“I came down from the attic and waited just out of sight. I knew that you would get impatient and start looking around. I’ll admit, I didn’t expect you to hide so _close_ to me, but that made finding you that much easier~” Strade laughs, loud and gleeful when he sees the mix of shock and rage in Alex’s expression. “Don’t be too hard on yourself, _liebling_ ~ You gave it your best shot. Now--” he turns to the nearby counter and brushes his fingers over the two tools he’s pulled out-- “I have a new game prepared for today~ I know how much you hate having no control, so I’m going to give you some~” 

Alex’s eyes widen when Strade turns back around, proudly holding up a hammer in one hand and a power drill in the other. 

“Hammer or drill?~” 

Strade tilts his head slightly, raising an eyebrow as he watches Alex’s expression. He’s used to seeing terror by now, or at the very least some _hint_ of fear despite how tough some of his guests have tried to be. Instead, underneath the surprise, he sees gears turning. Curiosity. 

“Drill.” Alex answers at last. He knows the hammer would be the “safer” bet, but who knows when he will get into another situation like this again. If he’s going to die in some shitty way, he might as well draw out everything as long as he can and have some fun along the way. 

_“Really?”_ Strade’s tone is giddy. “I was kind of hoping you’d pick it~” 

Alex snorts and watches him turn to plug in the drill. He doesn’t flinch when Strade comes back over to him, taunting him with letting the sharp bit whir in the air for a few seconds. “I know what you’re trying to do,” he says flatly, glaring at the larger man. “You’re trying to scare me or get me to break or whatever. Hate to tell you, _buddy_ , but I’m not so easy to crack. So stop with the intimidation tactics and stupid fucking theatrics and get _on_ with it.” 

It’s Strade’s turn to look surprised. He’s silent for a long moment, processing the--”Is that a challenge?~” His grin turns sinister, and he grabs Alex’s legs, forces them out straight before he pins them down between his own knees “It’s been a while since someone had the balls to _challenge_ me, _liebling_ ~ You’ll regret it~” 

Alex bares his teeth and leans forward as best he can. The rope around his wrists is tight again. “Do your worst.” 

That’s all the goading Strade needs. Without another moment’s hesitation, he uses one hand to further keep one of Alex’s legs still and lowers the drill to his knee. The scream Alex lets out is music to his ears, and sends a shudder down his spine. He excitedly looks at his face, relishes the tears that involuntarily stream down Alex’s cheeks as he drives the drill in deeper, undoubtedly completely fucking up the bones for good. He’s impressed with how long Alex lasts, obviously fighting the urge to beg for mercy. Finally, he pulls away. 

“Had enough?~” 

_”Fuck you!”_

Strade groans softly. He’s getting hot. “You’re doing so good, _liebling_ ~ Let’s keep going~” He doesn’t give Alex time to react before he drives the drill into his other knee. The blood, the screams, and the choked sobs are almost too much; it’s getting harder to control his impulses. His excitement only grows when Alex finally gives in. 

“S-Stop-- _Stop!_ Fuck!” Alex gasps for air and coughs as the drill is withdrawn. His throat feels raw. He hates that he’s crying. 

“That’s a good look on you…~” Strade leans in, voice low. “I’m surprised, _liebling_...Even after all that…” He purrs in response to the startled, hoarse gasp as he squeezes between Alex’s legs. “You’re _excited?~_ ” 

“F-Fuck you…” 

A dark chuckle rumbles up from Strade’s chest. “I _do_ have a promise to keep, hm?~” Leaning closer, he takes a deep breath, taking in the smell of Alex’s hair. His voice is barely above a whisper when he speaks again. “Do you have any idea how _hard_ it is for me to behave right now…? You’re so much _fun~_ I’d hate to break you too soon~” His head lowers to Alex’s neck, and he feels the way he tenses up as his lips brush the skin. Then, he bites down. Hard. Alex cries out.

Growling, Strade reaches behind Alex to untie his wrists and pushes him down to the floor. His grin returns when he doesn’t resist or try to get up, instead looking up at him tiredly behind a haze of pain and arousal. He makes quick work of pulling off Alex’s underwear and getting his own out of the way. The way Alex cries out again, then moans loudly as Strade roughly pushes into him sends an excited shiver down his spine. It takes him no time to set a hard, fast pace. 

Alex’s head is spinning, and he desperately tries to ground himself by focusing on the sensations of Strade ramming his hips forward with each thrust. There are a few times where he instinctively tries to wrap his legs around Strade’s waist, but the shock of white hot pain from his mangled knees causes him to sob. He’s never felt anything like it before. Mixed with the pleasure, it’s overwhelming, and he can’t even form words to ask for more. All he can do is clumsily roll his hips to meet him and moan. 

He gasps when Strade suddenly changes up their position, pulling his hips closer as he leans forward and clamps a hand around Alex’s throat. His moans become short, choked sounds as he fights to keep breathing. Black spots form in his vision, and he’s only vaguely aware of the way Strade’s pounding into him. He snaps back into awareness with a strangled cry, his whole body twitching as ecstasy jolts through every nerve, pushing him over the edge of being overwhelmed. Despite his efforts, the last thing Alex remembers is Strade’s low groan and the feeling of his cock pulsing deep inside of him before his world goes black.


	8. What It Means To Be Famous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pain and torture and betrayal, oh my!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longest chapter yet! I had a bit of trouble figuring out how to go about things because I didn't want to cut off too soon or too late, but I think I found a good stopping point for this chapter. :3
> 
> Edit: If you'd like to rp/interact directly with Alex, he has a tumblr now! >> https://ask-immortal-alex.tumblr.com

Alex is  _ really _ getting tired of this cycle. He feels impatience already bubbling up when he wakes up again, and he’s about ready to call for Strade when he hears the basement door open. 

_ ‘What the fuck…?’ _ The footsteps he hears are much lighter than his tormentor’s, and he instinctively pretends to still be unconscious. His suspicion rises as what sounds like claws slowly click their way across the concrete floor towards him. It’s not a dog, he surmises; the steps are too far apart, too  _ few _ . Whatever it is, it’s on two legs. Just as the new arrival begins sniffing his hair, Alex whips his head up to look at it. 

The stranger lets out a startled squeak and jumps back. “You’re alive?!” 

Alex narrows his eyes, quickly checks over the boy’s features.  _ ‘Tank top, shorts...a tail...orange hair...fox ears…a fuck ton of scars...Is that a collar?’ _

“Yeah.” Alex answers finally, frowning. His throat still hurts. “Who are you?” 

The boy hesitates. “Oh, um...I’m just Ren. I-It’s nice to meet you!” He pauses and frowns, ears dipping low. “I-I guess…” 

Alex snorts. “One hell of a way to meet people. I’m Alex.” Sighing, he leans his head back against the pole and tries to ignore the pounding pain in his knees that’s steadily getting worse the more he wakes up. “What are you doing down here?” 

“I-I just...got, uh...curious...I wasn’t sure if you were still down here…o-or…” 

“Breathing?” 

Ren nods and swallows hard. “I’m not supposed to be down here…” 

“Then go. I’m not gonna stop you.” 

Surprise flickers across Ren’s face, as if he isn’t expecting Alex to dismiss him so easily. His eyes dart around the room, then settle on the angry wounds lining Alex’s legs. “Do...Do you want me to help with those? I-I can do at least  _ something _ …” 

Alex raises an eyebrow, follows Ren’s gaze. “...No.” He’s careful to keep his tone from sounding too harsh; there’s no point in scaring him off when he isn’t doing anything wrong. “I’m done for soon, and I don’t want you risking your ass trying to help me. He could come down any second.” If the scars are anything to go off of, Alex reasons, then Strade’s been tormenting the guy for a long time. 

Ren fidgets, then mutters something about Strade being busy, but finally nods and slowly backs away. 

“Hey, Ren?” 

Ren stops at the base of the stairs and looks back. 

Alex manages a tired smirk. “Thanks for giving me a chance to talk to someone that isn’t a dick.” 

Ren chuckles despite himself, quickly covers his mouth to muffle the sound. “Y-You’re welcome.” With that, he makes his way up and out of the basement, leaving Alex alone once more. 

Alex’s smirk falls as soon as Ren is gone, and he sighs heavily. With nothing else to do, he silently counts all the way to a thousand. When Strade  _ still _ isn’t back, he growls, his impatience returning. 

“Hey, Stra--” he coughs, his dry, sore throat protesting as he attempts to raise his voice. Shaking his head, he swallows thickly and tries again. “HEY! STRADE! COME DOWN HERE, YOU DICKHEAD!” He’s getting ready to yell more expletives when he hears the door open followed by familiar, heavy footsteps. He groans as the too-bright light turns on. 

“You called,  _ liebling?~ _ ” Unsurprisingly, Strade sounds cheerful. “How are you feeling? Get a nice nap in?~” Not waiting for an answer, he strides over to Alex and suddenly traps one of his knees under his boot, grinds it down against the injury from his drill. He laughs in response to the long string of angry swear words that tumble out of Alex’s mouth and withdraws his weight. “ _ Good _ , you’re still full of fire~” 

Alex huffs out a sound that’s a mix between a groan and a growl. “And you’re still a piece of shit. Glad we’ve got the obvious out of the way.” 

“You haven’t answered my question,  _ liebling _ . What do you need?” 

“I’m wondering when the fuck you’re going to be done with all this.” Alex glares sharply and keeps talking when Strade opens his mouth to respond. “Listen. It’s ridiculously obvious that everything you’ve done so far is routine. You’re too  _ comfortable _ . So, I’d really rather get this over with than drag things on. I’m  _ bored _ .” 

Of all the things Strade expects to hear--of all the things he  _ has _ heard from past victims, Alex’s words completely baffle him. For once, he’s speechless, and he meets Alex’s expectant look with surprise and confusion. Slowly, the gears turning in his head click into place and he kneels down, leans in close, his eyes narrowed. 

“There’s something you aren’t telling me.” His tone is dangerous. 

“ _ Really? _ I never would’ve guessed.” The mocking sarcasm in Alex’s voice frustrates Strade even more.

“ _ Tell me _ .”

“ _ No _ . It’s none of your fucking business and has nothing to do with the situation I’m in right now.” Alex bares his teeth defiantly in response to Strade’s growl. “What are you gonna do if I don’t, big guy? Torture me more? I doubt my body can handle a lot of the shit you have in mind, and nothing you do is going to phase me.”

Strade is about ready to strangle Alex and be done with it when an idea pops into his head, and his snarl turns into a sadistic grin. “Nothing? I doubt that.” He grips Alex’s chin tightly and leans in closer. “How would you like to be a star,  _ liebling?  _ There isn’t much that drives my audiences crazier than a chance to break someone under my knife~” 

A quizzical look crosses Alex’s face. “Audiences?” 

“I don’t just make home movies for myself,  _ liebling _ . I have a whole following that would  _ love _ to see you fall apart.” Chuckling lowly, Strade pushes himself to his feet and heads for the stairs. “I’ll be right back! You stay put and behave.” 

Alex’s heart feels like it’s going to hammer out of his chest. He silently swears at himself, wondering how he hadn’t realized before now that Strade makes  _ actual _ snuff content. The pictures and the short videos Strade sent him at the start of all this should have been a  _ huge _ red flag, and he  _ missed it _ . And now his face is about to be put out in front of who knows how many people and potentially spread around.  _ ‘Damn it.’ _ He’s brought out of his thoughts when Strade stomps down the stairs and reappears carrying equipment in his arms. 

“Just a minute,  _ liebling _ , and I’ll be ready~” Strade’s frustration from before seems to have faded, his annoyingly cheerful grin present once again. He quickly sets up an expensive looking camera, laptop, and a couple of other devices--scramblers to hide his location and ip address amongst other things. “There~ Now--” turning to Alex, Strade hums thoughtfully. “You can’t stand, so I’ll have to get creative.” 

Alex watches him through narrowed eyes as he goes about the room, grabbing rope and setting it up on a rig above him that he hadn’t noticed before. He hates that he doesn’t have the strength to do much more than growl when Strade unties his hands only to handcuff them and attach the metal to the rope. The rig forces his arms above his head and pulls, causing Alex to gasp sharply and whimper as he has no choice but to follow, his knees screaming in protest. A few agonizing moments later, he’s hanging from the ceiling with his toes barely touching the floor--a small reprieve that he’s thankful for, even if his arms are already starting to ache. 

“You look good like this,  _ liebling _ ~” Strade purrs. “And look! You’re going to be so popular~” He motions to the laptop, where his stream has been booted up, waiting on standby with the camera off while he gets ready. There’s almost sixty people that have joined, and more are steadily trickling in. His grin doesn’t dim as he ties a bandana around his face--black with a skull print. “It’s showtime~” 

Alex turns his face away from the camera, squeezes his eyes shut, and tries to tune out Strade excitedly greeting his viewers. He’s into voyeurism. He’s put on shows for people before. But  _ this? _ A sinking feeling settles in the pit of his stomach and makes him feel sick. This is different. This is  _ wrong _ . He doesn’t want this. His attention snaps back to the present with a soft cry when Strade yanks his head back by his hair, forcing him to look at the camera. 

“Say hello,  _ liebling _ ~” 

“ _ Fuck you _ ,” Alex retorts through gritted teeth. His heart races faster in response to the series of pinging sounds that follow. The stream’s chat is blowing up with feedback--and donations. He tries to follow all of the comments, but they’re too fast for his tired eyes, and the distance between him and the laptop doesn’t help. 

Strade, on the other hand, sees a suggestion he likes and growls softly in approval. “Let’s make some music,  _ liebling _ ~ Your viewers deserve to hear that lovely voice of yours~” 

Alex glares at the larger man, tries to twist to see where he’s going, but he vanishes from view. He shudders involuntarily, listening to him rummage through what sounds like heavy things. The color drains from his face when Strade reappears carrying a sledgehammer. “Wait--No. No, you’ve already--DON’T--” His pleas are cut off by a scream being torn out of his throat as the hammer impacts with the side of his left knee, the bones breaking under the force. He doesn’t have time to recover before he’s screaming again; the hammer slams into the same spot again. Then again. He feels like he’s going to be sick, but there’s nothing in his stomach to expel, so all he can do is gasp hoarsely and sob. Alex’s voice cracks as he screams again, louder than before, when the hammer connects with his right knee. Alex’s relief from the hammer dropping to the floor is short-lived. 

“Well well well...What a generous donation~” Alex follows Strade’s attention to the screen, manages to make out a number through blurred vision. 

**$5,000** . 

“What can I do for you, buddy?~” 

**\--spectator47: Private show. There’s more where that came from.**

“Sure thing!” Strade does nothing to hide his glee. “Sorry, everyone! Looks like you’ll have to wait a little longer for my next show.” He hums to himself as he hits a series of commands and resets the stream. 

“There we go! What’s our first order of business?~” 

**\--spectator47: Make sure he watches the screen.**

Alex growls softly when Strade calls to him, but the sound is weaker than he would have liked. He’s too busy trying to ground himself through the excruciating pain arcing through his mangled legs. Upon hearing the viewer’s request, he scoffs and does his best to stop crying before he looks at the laptop. “What do you want, asshole?” 

**\--spectator47: I never thought I would see you in this position.**

**\--spectator47: Not that I’m complaining. It suits you.**

Alex frowns in confusion. “The fuck are you talking about?” 

**\--spectator47: I’ll be honest. I’ve fantasized about getting to see you like this.**

**\--spectator47: Looks like I have the best timing I could have wished for.**

“Get to the point, fucker. I’m getting sick of these--” 

**\--spectator47: Calm down, doll.**

**\--spectator47: Patience is a virtue, isn’t it?**

Alex feels like he’s just been stabbed, and he can’t hide the shock that crosses his expression. “...Carl…?” The name comes out barely above a whisper. 

**\--spectator47: Bravo. You remember me.**

**\--spectator47: Don’t worry. I’ll remember you for a long time after this.**

**\--spectator47: Speaking of, this isn’t a social conversation. I just wanted you to know who’s going to choose how you die.**

**\--spectator47: First, I want him to remember all the nice times we had together. Cut “whore” into his chest, nice and big.**

Strade purrs and nods. “Coming right up~” 

The rage that bubbles up from Alex’s chest burns, and he can barely see straight. “Fucking  _ bastard _ ,” he hisses. He jumps when he feels something cold and sharp against his skin, barely has time to register that Strade’s gripping his hip to keep him steady with his hunting knife positioned at the right side of his chest. 

“Don’t you fucking--” Alex groans and grits his teeth as the blade bites into his flesh. It gets progressively harder to keep his composure with each line Strade carves into him, obviously in no hurry to finish. By the time Strade starts to work on the “O,” tears are involuntarily sliding down the sides of his face. It feels like an eternity before Strade withdraws. 

“Look at the screen,  _ liebling~ _ You’re so nice like this~” 

Alex shakes his head, trains his eyes on the floor. “Fuck off...” 

Strade raises an eyebrow, and a note of sympathy finds its way into his tone. “You look like you could use a nice pick-me-up. You’re  _ wilting _ …” He turns his gaze to the screen. “What do you think, buddy?”

**\--spectator47: Give him the special treatment. That custom box of yours should do the trick.**

Alex can  _ hear _ the grin on Strade’s face in the way he growls excitedly. “The fuck are you up to now?” 

Strade ignores him in favor of looking through one of his toolboxes. He returns with a hammer, a handful of nails, and some copper string. “Hold still,  _ liebling _ ~ It’ll make this go that much faster~” He starts humming to himself again as he sets to work, ignoring Alex’s protests and pained reactions while he drives each of the nails into his limbs. Two in each arm, two in his right leg, and three in his left leg just above the knees. The latter get particularly vocal responses from his captive, and he has to take a deep breath to remain focused. He always gets so  _ excited _ when he’s putting on shows. Next, he ties a bit of copper string around each nail, connecting them all together. “There~” 

Alex still isn’t sure  _ what _ Strade is up to. All he knows is that it hurts.  _ Everything _ hurts and he’s  _ tired _ . His blood runs cold when Strade makes another trip to a different part of the room and returns with what looks like a large, rigged car battery. “No.  _ No _ . I don’t want that. I’m  _ fine!” _

“This isn’t about what you want,  _ liebling _ ~ You’re just a slab of meat on my hook being prepped for later~” The way Strade talks makes Alex wish he could break out of his bonds and punch him in the face before stabbing him to death with his own knife. Strade ignores his furious glare. 

Alex squirms despite himself as Strade holds up the jumper cables attached, instinctively,  _ desperately _ trying to get away. The device hums to life and he can’t help the fearful gasps that escape his mouth as Strade puts on a show of lowering them to the nails in his legs. 

The pain that arcs through his body is like nothing he’s ever felt before, and he feels something in his throat tear with the agonized shrieks it pulls out of him. His whole body seizes and jolts, and he feels like he’s going to fall apart when Strade ups the output. As if the string isn’t bad enough on its own, it’s also tied to the metal handcuffs around his wrists, and he can feel them and his hands taking additional damage. The smell of something burning reaches his nose before finally,  _ finally _ , Strade cuts off the device and removes the clamps. He’s left gasping raggedly and twitching, unsure of how he’s still alive. 

“Sorry,  _ liebling _ ,” Strade chimes without an ounce of remorse. “I got carried away watching you writhe like that~” He turns his attention back to the laptop. “Anything else?~” 

**\--spectator47: Think you can get him to cum in that condition? Do it and I’ll chip in an extra thousand.** ****

Strade’s eyes light up and he laughs. “I made him cum last night. I’m sure this won’t be any different~” 

**\--spectator47: Make sure I can see his face.**

“Got it~” 

Alex doesn’t have any strength left to fight back, but he cries out and sobs when Strade adjusts the rig so that he’s leaning forward and his legs try to support his weight, only for the broken bones to grind against each other. The sick feeling in his stomach returns when he hears Strade’s pants unzip. He doesn’t want this.  _ Especially _ not for the disgusting bastard that, up until today, he thought was a decent human being.

Strade wastes no time in pushing himself into Alex with a low groan. He was going crazy keeping himself in check, but now that his special viewer wants a  _ real _ show, he’s happy to let loose. Like before, he sets a hard and fast pace, but this time, he has no regard for Alex’s well-being. He purposely pulls his body towards him with each thrust, ensures that his legs are aggravated one way or another. The choked sobs and cries of pain Alex lets out only spur him on. 

“Come on,  _ liebling _ ~” Strade purrs, leaning forward to grab a fistful of Alex’s hair and pull his head back, forcing his face to be in full view of the camera. “Don’t want to disappoint our generous friend~” As if to emphasize his point, he reaches around with his free hand and starts to stroke Alex’s member in time with his thrusts, earning a startled moan from the smaller man. 

The pain is nearly blinding, but the added pleasure into the mix does something to Alex that he can’t put into words. He can’t help how hard he gets in Strade’s grasp, or his tired attempts to push his hips back against Strade’s. It’s like he’s not in control of his own body anymore; he’s in a fog. It’s only when he feels a telltale, rapidly tightening coil in his stomach that he snaps back to the present. 

“W-Wait--I don’t-- _ No _ \--” 

**\--spectator47: I’m going to cum with you, doll. You always liked that, didn’t you?**

“Fuck…” Alex tries to squirm, but his position doesn’t allow it. He can hear Strade’s quickened breathing, the low groans. He’s close, too. “ _ Fuck _ …” Carl’s going to cum watching him like this, and Strade’s going to cum inside him again, and he--

_ “FUCK!” _ The coil suddenly snaps and Alex screams out in ecstasy, his vision going blurry from how hard his orgasm hits. Loud moans and incoherent words tumble from his lips as Strade continues to pound into him, driving his too-sensitive nerves up a wall, before he finally growls loudly and empties himself deep inside of him. 

Alex barely has time to try catching his breath before Strade unceremoniously pulls out of him and roughly shoves him forward, causing his broken legs to shift again. He fights through the pain to squint at the laptop screen. 

**\--spectator47: Good boy, doll. That was quite the experience. I’m impressed.**

**\--spectator47: I think it’s time to put the poor thing out of his misery. I don’t know how much more he can take before his body gives out.**

Strade hums and looks Alex over while tucking himself back into his pants. “You’re right...Such a shame. There’s so much more we could’ve done if he was a bit more…” He purses his lips searching for the right word. “Resilient!” His eyes flicker the screen. “How do you want to go about it?” 

**\--spectator47: Split him open. After he’s spent, I want to see his heart.**

“Good choice~” 

Alex’s pulse is like thunder in his ears as Strade fixes the rig so that he’s hanging back in an upright position. Hate mingles with anticipation as he weakly glares at the laptop, wishes he could see Carl’s face just to spit in it. 

_ ‘You’ll remember me, huh?’ _ He silently seethes.  _ ‘I’ll remember you, too, you bastard.’ _

“You’re going to look so pretty,  _ liebling _ ~ I’m sad you’re going already, but at least I’ll have this video to go back to anytime I miss you~” Strade moves to stand behind Alex, keeps him steady with one hand, reaches around his front with his other, and sinks his hunting knife deep into his right side. He relishes the sharp cry Alex lets out. Like with the letters, he seems to be in no hurry to finish the job, slowly draws the blade across his belly. Alex’s sounds slowly dwindle to soft, choked whimpers. 

Time seems to stretch out as Alex feels what little strength he has left drain from his body, following his organs as Strade pulls them out of the gaping wound. He’s cold, numb, and he welcomes the familiar embrace of death as it envelopes him, completely oblivious to the fond murmurs coming from Strade. 

He can’t wait to go home. 


End file.
